The Unarmed Truth
by avanti90
Summary: Sequel to The Element of Doubt. Laisa Toscane has an unexpected conversation and an even more unexpected realization.


The betrothal ceremony passed like a dream for Laisa. She went from one carefully rehearsed step to the next in a trancelike state. Her hands moved automatically to give and receive gifts; her lips seemed to form themselves around the vows with no conscious effort on her part. The only reality, it seemed, was the man in front of her, the man who would one day be hers, and she his, for as long as they both lived.

And then it was all over, and she and Gregor managed to hold hands for one full second before Lady Alys dragged her off to the waiting Counts. Gregor shot her a look of mingled apology and longing, before he himself was drawn aside by Viceroy and Vicereine Vorkosigan. _Later. I promise._

Laisa mingled with the glittering crowd, greeting each of the Counts and Countesses, and their heirs, and their families. They came before her in a predetermined order, according to some insanely complicated Barrayaran order of precedence based on descent. An outsider might think it was spontaneous, but that was the marvel of Lady Alys's choreography. She received the same words of congratulations, repeating the same formal phrases of thanks over and over until they sounded inane even to her. She was utterly tired, wanted nothing more than to collapse – preferably into Gregor's arms – but she managed to keep smiling throughout. It wouldn't do for Gregor if she managed to upset any of the High Vor, so soon.

Only when she'd ticked off every one of the fifty-eight names on her mental list did she close her eyes and try to relax. She opened them after a minute and immediately saw Lady Alys heading in her direction. Laisa straightened herself with a sigh. _This is Barrayar. It will never be over, now. _

At that moment Alys stopped in the middle of the room, looking not at Laisa but at someone behind her. Then she nodded and turned aside as if nothing had happened, apparently to talk to Countess Vorhalas. Laisa blinked in surprise. Who in the galaxy could make _that _happen?

"Dr. Toscane." She turned around and found herself looking into the heavy-lidded eyes of Viceroy Count Vorkosigan. "I would like to talk to you, if you have a moment."

_Oh, no, not him, not now._ The Viceroy must have noticed her obvious exhaustion, because he added, "Perhaps we should find a place to sit down."

According to Lady Alys's script, she was supposed to be receiving congratulations from the galactic ambassadors right now. Followed by heads of the various Vorbarr Sultana guilds. Followed by the representatives from the South Continent, and the directors of the Imperial University, and... and she simply couldn't remember what came after that. But whatever it was, it wouldn't involve her sitting down.

"Of course, sir." said Laisa, taking the Viceroy's arm. He led her out of the room and through the maze of Residence corridors she had yet to learn, until they reached a small sitting room. A Vorkosigan armsman poured Laisa a glass of water as she fell gratefully into an armchair. The Viceroy seated himself opposite her, and Laisa suddenly found herself unsure of the social conventions. Should she have offered him a seat? After all, he was a Count and she the Empress-to-be. But this wasn't her house yet, and Lord Regent Vorkosigan had been living in it back when she was born. The Count gestured to his armsman, who bowed and withdrew from the room, closing the door behind him. "Dr. Toscane," he began.

"Please," she said, trying to fight her growing anxiety, "call me Laisa." She was far from comfortable with this man, but she'd had time to assimilate the shock of meeting the Butcher in person. She would have to get used to it for Gregor's sake, and she might as well start now. She just prayed he wouldn't suggest that she call him by his first name.

"Laisa." The Viceroy smiled at her. "I suppose I should begin by telling you how grateful I am to you." Laisa blinked at him in surprise. "Part of it, I suppose, is political relief. Gregor has kept us all terrified for years that he might die without a proper heir. Civil war is something Barrayar knows far too well, I fear." His expression softened. "It will be the happiest day of my life, when I see your son born at last."

_Children. _Laisa could feel the huge silly grin spreading across her face as it did every time anyone mentioned them. Which, since she and Gregor had announced their engagement, was every other minute. "Gregor and I want lots of children," she confessed gleefully. "We hope to start the first immediately after the wedding. In a replicator, of course." _In a year and a half, I will be a mother._

"Yes, Gregor has told me. I understand some of the conservative Counts gave you trouble over that."

"Only until the Vicereine arrived from Sergyar." Laisa grinned. "Then they all went very quiet, very fast." He laughed at that, and Laisa felt herself almost relaxing. This wasn't so bad.

"But," the Viceroy continued, "it is not political relief only. Gregor is like a son to me, and I..." he paused, apparently searching for the right words. "I am afraid I have not always been the father that he deserved. It was never such a problem for Cordelia, but for Gregor and me... It was very difficult for both of us, to separate our personal relationship from our political one." He sighed. "But because of the Regency, I know better than any other how much Barrayar demands of Gregor every day, and how much he struggles to give what is needed. His life, his soul, his honor." Laisa sat up, trying to read the emotions in the Viceroy's face. She would have considered those phrases absurd and theatrical from anybody else. But in Aral Vorkosigan's voice they were nothing of the sort.

"Despite all that Cordelia and I could do for him, Gregor's life has not been a peaceful one. I had feared he might not find that peace in his lifetime. I am glad to have been proven wrong, and for that also, Laisa, you have my deepest gratitude."

"Thank you," Laisa managed. The last thing she wanted was for this man to be indebted to her. She tried to find the right words too. "I hope that I can become... what Gregor needs me to be. And what the Empire needs me to be." She deliberately did not say _what Barrayar needs_.

From the look the Viceroy gave her, her choice of phrase had not passed unnoticed. "And what do you think the Empire needs you to be?"

Oh, hell, here it was. The test. Laisa paused to frame her answer. The _absolute_ last thing she wanted was to start discussing politics with Aral Vorkosigan. That path could lead only to disaster.

"In the long term, sir, I'm still trying to understand. I don't think I can fit into the mold of a traditional Barrayaran empress. If that's what Gregor wants, I'll try, but I think there are better ways for me to use my education and experience." She guessed that the Count would understand that, might even prove to be an ally. _His_ wife certainly didn't fit into any traditional Barrayaran molds. "For the immediate future... Gregor wants to use this marriage as a propaganda tool. He hopes that it will be seen as a step towards peace for both our peoples. I share that hope." Maybe he would take the hint and go back to the topic of Gregor. She could happily talk about Gregor all day long.

"You mean, Komarrans are unlikely to appreciate the propaganda value of the Imperial wedding if they have to see the Butcher standing beside the Emperor at every step."

Laisa stopped dead. "I didn't say that!"

"No, you didn't say that. Very loudly." The Viceroy brushed aside her protests with a wave of his hand. "There is no need to apologise, milady. Especially since I agree with you entirely. And I have tried, unsuccessfully, to tell Gregor so."

Laisa stared in shock. "If Gregor wants you- "

The Viceroy raised a hand to stop her. "Gregor is not the only person getting married," he told her softly. "I know what Gregor thinks. I can see what your family thinks. And I know perfectly well what the Komarran public will think." He paused, and met her gaze squarely.

"I want to know what _you _think. If you wish that I should not stand on your wedding circle, I will not. And I will make sure that Gregor understands."

Laisa stared at him for a long time, completely dumbfounded. Of all the paths she'd feared this conversation might take, she certainly hadn't imagined _that _offer. Her first impulse was to reassure the Count, tell him she had no problem_. _That would be the polite thing, and she'd come here determined to be polite at any cost.

But she _did_ have a problem, and she also had a feeling it would be a bad idea to lie to this man. There was courtesy and then there was cowardice, and she did not think Aral Vorkosigan would appreciate cowardice in someone who was going to marry his foster-son.

What had Gregor told her about dealing with unexpected verbal attacks? _When in doubt, the best weapon is honesty. At least it's guaranteed to take the enemy by surprise._ Gregor had military metaphors for everything. So did Miles Vorkosigan, come to think of it.

"I think," she admitted at last, "that it matters a great deal to Gregor to have you stand in his father's place. And Gregor's happiness is more important to me than my own."

The Viceroy showed neither surprise nor pain at this statement. Rather he seemed to be looking at her with respect. Good, maybe he would take that as an answer and stop now. _Please stop. _She'd been officially betrothed to Gregor for less than two hours, and she really didn't want to start Day One by mortally insulting her fiance's family.

"Is personal happiness all that matters to you, in this?"

"No," she answered without thinking. He raised an eyebrow, and she had to continue. "I'm not marrying Gregor to become Empress," she explained. "But when he asked me to marry him, I knew there would be times when my actions might influence the fate of millions. And I wanted to use that influence for peace on Komarr. This whole ridiculous circus you people call a wedding-" his lips quirked - "was worthwhile for that purpose, and I think, sir, that peace is not likely to be helped by your presence."

_Peace on Komarr. _The words had sounded so childish, coming from her lips; Laisa wished she could convey the sense of purpose with which Duv Galeni had first uttered them to her. She turned aside and took a deep breath. This conversation had gone completely beyond her control. It was the Viceroy; he had the same effect on people that Gregor had, of drawing them into telling him the truths they hadn't wanted to say.

"I understand that," said the Viceroy, "And while you will probably not believe me, I am glad of it. Komarr has suffered in these last two years, for lack of a voice in the highest circles of government. If you feel that you can become that voice, it is a worthy service to offer." He paused. "Is that your answer?"

Laisa chewed her lip, trying to think. She was suddenly tired, and frustrated, and irritated. She'd resigned herself to the composition of the wedding party long ago, resolved to make the best of it. This was the day of her betrothal, for heaven's sake. What right had Vorkosigan to force this choice on her now, knowing that she could give no answer that was not a betrayal? Was this some absurd way of testing her loyalties, the sort of test only a Barrayaran could have come up with?

The words slipped from her mouth before she had a chance to restrain her anger.

"_Did_ you order it?"

There was a long silence in the room, and Laisa cursed her stupidity. _Idiot, idiot, idiot... _She'd just lost any chance she had of making this work. The Viceroy was bound to take this as an insult, and for good reason. What good could it do to ask such a question, when the very act of asking was an admission that she could not trust the answer?

"I was wondering how long you would take to get to that," said Count Vorkosigan at last. "Your grandfather was killed at Solstice." It was not a question.

Laisa felt her throat go dry. So this was it. This was what he'd wanted to talk about, the reason he'd made sure they would be alone. This was what she'd prayed would never come up between them, because there was only one way to go from here and it was disaster.

_Gregor, I'm sorry. I tried._

"My grandfather and my aunt. My father's cousin." She forced her voice to remain steady. "Did you order it?"

The Viceroy was watching her thoughtfully over his hands, his expression unreadable. "What has Gregor told you?"

"Gregor has told me that you didn't order the massacre. That your political officer gave the order without consulting you." Gregor, Lady Alys, and Countess Cordelia had all taken pains to assure her that she would not be the daughter-in-law of a mass murderer. Though the Countess, she was certain, had been choosing her words carefully.

"And do you not trust Gregor's word?"

Laisa stiffened. "I trust Gregor absolutely," she answered. "But Gregor was one month old when Solstice happened. How can he _know_?" How could anyone know what orders Admiral Vorkosigan might have given in private to his subordinate, what knowledge might have been removed permanently with that subordinate's brutal murder? She did not try to use the opportunity, to move the topic back to Gregor. It was too late now. "Did you order it?"

"No," he told her firmly. "I knew nothing of that order until it was too late. I executed the man who gave it, with my bare hands. I did everything I could to give justice to the dead. But," he looked down at his hands, "I do not delude myself that I am innocent. I was in command. The responsibility for those two hundred deaths, and all that followed them, is mine."

The pain in his voice was real, and immense. _All that followed them..._ Laisa had no idea how many Komarrans had died in violence in the thirty-five years since the conquest. Thousands, certainly. If anyone had access to an exact count, it was surely ex-Prime Minister Vorkosigan. How many lives did this man have on his conscience? How did he get up in the morning and walk and talk and smile at his family like an ordinary man, with that monstrous burden on his soul?

"I've heard rumors... I mean, some people say... they say the order originated from Emperor Ezar directly. Without your knowledge." Laisa wasn't sure if it would make her feel better or worse, knowing that Gregor's grandfather was a mass murderer instead of his foster-father.

The Viceroy's face darkened instantly. "_No._" His voice was almost a whisper. "That is a lie, and one that should not be repeated, _ever. _The Solstice massacre was an act of supreme stupidity. It served neither the Emperor's goals nor the Emperor's honor."

Supreme stupidity, thought Laisa, was an apt description. The massacre had turned a peaceful annexation into an endless circle of violence which, in the long run, had served neither Barrayar nor Komarr. Certainly it had not served Admiral Vorkosigan, who'd spent four years as a demoted Captain on patrol duty as a result of it. Actually, that was the best reason she'd heard yet to believe in his innocence. Komarrans accused the Butcher of everything from homosexuality to genocide, but not even the most fanatical of them ever accused him of stupidity_._

Laisa suddenly became conscious of a chill in the room. In that moment she was certain, somehow, that she wasn't hearing the whole truth. _What are you so carefully not telling me, Aral Vorkosigan? Whose goals were served that day at Solstice, if not yours or your Emperor's? _Some little voice of sanity at the back of her mind told her she really, _really_ didn't want to hear the whole truth. Her heart was beating too fast; she sipped her water, hoping in vain that it would bring her some calm.

"I have long since given up trying to convince people of this," said the Viceroy. "There is no proof I can offer but my word. A word that was proven useless thirty-five years ago, so there is no reason why it should be trusted now." He said it with absolute calm, turning his hand palm upwards, and Laisa caught her breath. It was the exact gesture Gregor used, so very often.

How much of this man was there in Gregor? The same habits, the same quiet charisma, the same inexplicable, irresistible Vorishness. Gregor was not Vorkosigan's son by blood, yet now that she looked she could almost see Gregor in his face -

Laisa nearly dropped her glass.

_Oh, dear God, he actually didn't do it._

There was no way in the universe he could have done it.

Because this was the man who had taught Gregor, who had shaped Gregor into the person he was, the person she loved, the person who would sooner die than order the murder of innocents whom he had sworn to protect. You couldn't be the sort of man who ordered Solstice and then raise the sort of man who was Gregor Vorbarra.

She felt as if her world was turning upside down, nothing certain anymore. Except for Gregor. He was her reality, her focus, her one constant point.

_I trust Gregor absolutely. _

And how could she trust Gregor himself, and not trust when she saw him in another? Not trust those whom he trusted most of all? She understood now how Gregor had been able to give her his word on Vorkosigan's innocence, how he had been able to speak with such certainty despite having no evidence to show. She would speak with such certainty, if someone accused Gregor. And she had known him for a matter of months.

She had known Aral Vorkosigan for two hours. But what better measure of a man's character than his son?

For a moment Laisa tried to imagine what it must be like for a man of honor to spend his entire life being vilified for a crime he did not commit. To have his name's word broken for no fault of his own. To spend thirty-five years being called the Butcher of Komarr... He was looking down at his hands now, not meeting her eyes.

"My lord Viceroy," she said firmly. "I believe you. And I hope that you will do me the honor of standing on my wedding circle."


End file.
